


Bucket

by The_Torturer_Writes



Category: Girls (TV), hbo girls
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Oral Sex, Sackler being Sackler, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, sloppy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26171236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Torturer_Writes/pseuds/The_Torturer_Writes
Summary: You were little more than a thrumming nerve. Your entire body throbbed inside your suddenly itchy sweater and leggings, aching and ready for him to do whatever it was he would do. That was the entire nature of your relationship with Adam. He told you what he wanted, and you delivered.
Relationships: Adam Sackler & You, Adam Sackler/Reader
Comments: 24
Kudos: 75





	Bucket

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure I was going to post this because it is different from my regular Sackler, but I need to get it out of my brain. As always, this is an adult work, and there's not a lot about me that's fluffy. So, please be aware. Also, this is just straight porn, y'all.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

Adam’s strong hands wrapped around your skull entirely. His fingers dug into your scalp, guiding you up and down again and again. He grunted at your whimper; the sound clipped by the stab of his dick against your uvula. Every salacious sound boomed in the empty theater.

On your knees between his, you clutched at his corded, jean-clad thighs, but the smooth fabric thwarted your every effort at keeping your balance. You slid against the stage's hardwood floor, only contained by his manipulative grip and his boots at the outsides of your thighs.

For the last half hour, Adam used your mouth to edge himself. He inched right up to the line where you’d taste that salty desire dribble out; and then, he’d back off, slapping his dick at the flat of your tongue with a lewd groan or allowing you to lick at the distended veins decorating his cock and wiggle your tongue tip into his weeping slit.

He was all you could smell, all you could taste. When he allowed it, musk and sweat tainted the air you breathed. You lapped at the tangy underside and head of his dick, swirling the slick around and around before swallowing it down on a delirious sigh.

Cock drunk from the first drop.

The longer he fucked your mouth, the more it swelled and numbed, and the natural apprehension of your throat to keep invaders out grew lax. That’s what he wanted. That was the goal — to park his massive dick into your throat as far as he could and cum down it.

His phone alarm blared, signaling the impending start of the next rehearsal. He responded with an annoyed kick to send it skittering across the floor.

“Goddammit.” He tangled his fingers in roughly, jerking you back to the tip. He yanked his black t-shirt up and out of the way, baring that mouth-watering abdomen. “Hands.”

You were little more than a thrumming nerve. Your entire body throbbed inside your suddenly itchy sweater and leggings, aching and ready for him to do whatever it was he would do. That was the entire nature of your relationship with Adam. He told you what he wanted, and you delivered.

Blow job in the middle of the day, the park, the cab? Often. Pictures of your tits at three in the morning so he could jerk off when everyone else in the apartment was asleep? Check. Dirty bar bathroom fucking while his narcissist girlfriend waited? Of course.

He used you — however, whenever, wherever he wanted.

You reveled in it, in being his on-demand whore. Often, he didn’t care if you enjoyed it. He never worried about making you cum or being nice. You were at his disposal for every vicious fuck, for every lascivious, law-breaking adventure.

You picked up where his idiotic girlfriends left off.

And now? Now, you obeyed for the hundredth time, wrapped both hands around his straining, heated cock, and used them in tandem with your mouth, twisting and tugging. His arousal and the spit he coaxed from the back of your tongue combined to make every pass glide easily. Each obscene slurp and shuck echoed, a sinful chorus your heart beat in rhythm to. He moaned loud as you massaged and drooled and swallowed. 

The sounds he made had you rocking pitifully against nothing. Pins and needles shot through your calves and feet. Your quads burned; your head swam. But your breasts were heavy with arousal, nipples erect in that way that made you want to beg him to lick and suck them. Your pussy clamored, banging an intense, unrelenting tempo and soaking through the paltry fabric between your thighs.

“Think about this goddamn mouth more than I should.” He huffed and squirmed, unable to decide between the combination of lips and hands or the invitation at the back of your neck. “Can’t get Hannah to give a decent blow job to save my life. Shit, fuck, right there.”

You purred at his words and concentrated harder on relaxing your jaw and swiping your tongue along his length in response. This was the only praise you ever received from Adam — this comparison to whomever he was dating.

Clutching at your head, he forced you down, down, down until your nose nudged his groin and your throat, abused and beaten into submission, accepted his barrage. He growled and thrust in, pushy and pleased with himself. He interrupted each gag with a new spearing of his cock. Barking another curse, Adam lodged himself so far into your throat he blocked your air supply and spilled straight into your gullet, denying you even the taste.

He was demanding, depraved, delectable.

He held you there a long time, until your fingers eased and your shoulders slumped with imminent unconsciousness. When he finally vacated your mouth, he held you upright by the throat as your brain came back into itself. He waited until you blinked bleary eyes at him and licked your swollen, cracked lips.

Pulling away, you took a dizzy moment to adjust your clothes sluggishly. You wiped the sticky spit from your face and nodded once, the only sign he ever asked for that you weren’t going to die or press charges.

He jerked his head towards the back door and grabbed his script from the floor.

“Get the fuck outta here.”

***

AS: Carmine’s. 15.  
Y: N. Too far. 30.  
AS: Fine.

Twenty-five minutes later, you strolled through the Italian restaurant’s door and paused at the attendant’s booth. You were here to meet someone, you said, breezing by her with a smile as you had a dozen times before. For all she knew, you were a regular paying customer, not a booty call who was about to corrupt some recently cleaned surface.

Pointing yourself toward the restrooms, you hummed and strolled through the bustling room. You caught sight of Adam seated at an over-crowded table, surrounded by half-drunk, too loud people he looked close to murdering.

The scowl on his face promised any number of sinful things.

As soon as he caught your eye, you ducked down the dim hallway and into the ladies’ room to wait. Carmine’s was one of his favorite spots because of this particular bathroom — single occupancy, thick door, sturdy lock.

Minutes later, tall, dark, and menacing stepped in, slammed the door, and threw the lock into place. Hands on his hips, he leveled that annoyed gaze at you. Your breath hitched; your mouth watered. Slowly, deliberately, his eyes roamed from your favorite pair of come-fuck-me boots, along shapely curves accentuated by black skinny jeans. He lingered at the low swoop of your blouse and the rich plum coloring your full lips.

Somehow, his gaze darkened even further.

“You on a fucking date?”

He closed the distance in two irritated strides, prompting you to stand up straighter. Adam’s left hand pulled you in by your ass, squeezing and lifting you against him. His right found your breast to graze and swipe his thumb back and forth over the straining nipple. The lace bralette you wore left nothing to chance. You felt every nudge of the stiff peak side to side, sending electric current straight to your clit.

“Are you?” You met his eyes, a dare and a plea all wrapped up in one look. “You don’t care.”

Honey-gold eyes narrowed at you. Lush, pink lips hard lined. The hand at your breast lifted to your face and smeared the pretty lipstick all across your cheek, lending an air of just-fucked to your as yet unfucked appearance. You were loose for him from the first text, before you even walked in the door, but the sound he made melted your insides.

“You’re right.” Adam spun you to face the mirror and tore at your pants, nearly ripping the button clean off. “Don’t give a damn.”

Shoving the fabric down your hips, he impatiently tore your panties, pushed you further up onto the little counter, and dipped his fingers into the well at your core.

“Always ready for me, huh bucket?”

Your head dropped on a hushed groan at the pet name. Bucket. Short for Cum Bucket — his own personal sperm bank.

You didn’t need to answer; the evidence was clear. And before you could even plan the words, the fat head of his cock pushed past your puffy labia and broke the jellied seal on your cunt. You bit your lip hard to keep the whining noise from turning loud as he stretched you. It burned so goddamn good, and you lifted onto your toes for even an inch more.

Warm-up over, Adam gripped both of your hips and slammed forward punishingly. The force of it was so great, your mouth popped open on a hiccup, something between a delighted cry and a punch to the chest. Stunned, you planted your clammy hand on the mirror for some support, but he held you in place. His wide, determined hands kept your body right where he wanted it.

His pace was brutal. Hips pistoning, fingers digging in, teeth bared. All take and no give, he leaned further into you, pressing your abdomen against the marble counter so hard you knew there would be bruises. Each pass was frenzied, and the only thing that muffled the slap of his body against yours was the fact that the bathroom was next door to the kitchen.

The smell of sex mingled with spice and bread, coaxing a gurgle from your stomach. Starved in more ways than one, you arched your back and tipped your ass up further, earning a pleasured grunt from behind.

You knew the drill, and you held your breath. He hardly wanted to hear your sounds, often because he was muttering angrily or cursing at whatever bullshit happened over the course of the day. Your wailing was distracting, annoying, he said. You screwed your eyes shut to keep from watching him fuck you in the mirror, certain that you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet if you did.

But a whimper escaped, and you clawed at the sink. It was too much, too fucking good to bear in silence no matter how hard you tried.

His panting and grunting was music, and you pictured every shiny, veiny inch disappearing into your sizzling cunt. He didn’t care if you came, but he could drive you there, drive you crazy, the way he bottomed out, the way his sheer size filled you into your guts, the way he pushed and pulled and moved you to his liking.

Fucking you like this, in the bathroom of such a fine family establishment, was vulgar, disrespectful. His girlfriend and her friends were right outside, drinking and carrying on, but he was in here with you, hollowing out your pussy for his freight train cock.

It was mean and rude and shameful.

Addicting.

Something changed this time, though. You hurtled fast towards the kind of blinding orgasm only Adam could deliver, struggling to keep your mouth shut as you did, when his firm hand wrapped around your neck and lifted your back into his chest. He tightened his grip and hissed in your ear.

“Open your eyes. You think some suit can fuck you like this?”

The sight that met your peeking was carnal candy. His face was flushed and right at your ear. Your mouth hung open, letting strangled sounds of pleasure squeak free. He buried his dick far, far, far into your cunt and gripped the soft swell of your stomach for leverage. His fingernails dug in, and you could do nothing but brace, hold on, quake.

“Some college frat asshole gonna make you cum like I do? You know you want to. Almost there aren’t you, bucket? You think I don’t know when you cum?”

That was it. That’s all it took to send you reeling. Your body lit up, constricting around the angry cock inside and pulling a volley of curses from its owner. A long, muted ‘ffffffuck’ dripped from your lips right before the rest of you followed, shaking through the orgasm and the hot flood of slick that accompanied it.

It was liquid fire leaking down your thighs for him, a delicious loosening of every muscle to draw him in even further, and he rewarded you with a loud groan and a vicious bite to the shoulder.

He fucked you through your high mercilessly, never stopping the rough, quick pace. Pushing your torso away, he wrapped his hands back around your hips and furiously crashed into you until he snarled and emptied his cock, painting your insides with a fresh coat of Adam.

He was right. Nobody could fuck you like that.

Slumping against the mirror, you mewled at the cool press of the glass, grateful for the temperature change. You bit your lip as he pulled out, already feeling empty in the wake of his use. Managing to make your legs work, you pulled your clothes back into place and reached to turn on the faucet so you could wash away the mussed make-up, but he caught your hand and turned you to face him.

He tipped your face up by fingers at your chin.

“Fucking tramp is what you are.” His voice dropped, and it seemed like almost a muse to himself, something you weren’t supposed to hear. “Never prettier than when you’re crying and filled with cum.”

Your brow furrowed, lost in this moment because you didn’t know what to do if he was praising you without comparing you to Hannah or whoever it was today. You could count the times he looked you right in the face on one hand, and you looked away, not wanting to go down the rabbit hole of how beautiful he was.

“Wear it like this. Show everybody what kind of whore you are.”

He dipped his head, bit your cheek, and spun out of the room. You mashed your lips together and took another long moment to get all of your shit back together. Slipping out, you tucked your hands into your jacket pockets and slithered through the crowd towards the door.

“Miss? Hey shit, are you ok?!?”

You knew what it looked like. He knew what it would look like, too; that was the point. It looked like you’d been assaulted in the bathroom. And to explain the disheveled clothes, the messy hair and smeared make-up, you’d have to say no, I let this guy I know fuck me while you all ate ravioli. You’d have to say no, I wasn’t assaulted; I’m his tramp, his whore, his on-call cunt.

For a flash, you contemplated doing just that, mulling over how the words would sound, would taste on your tongue.

Deciding against it, you ignored the concern and tossed a brief look over your shoulder to your at-will tormentor before disappearing out into the street.

***

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Rigid fingers encircled your upper arm, gouging at the tender flesh through your dress shirt as the body attached to those fingers yanked you backwards into the janitor’s closet. You shrieked, pushing at the human column who kept you pinned in the corner.

“You come when I ask you, that’s it. You don’t fucking follow me here with my girlfriend like some goddamn stalker.”

It took a full 30 seconds to register the person grousing at you.

“I know the rules, Adam.” You fished out your badge and held it up for him to see. “I work here.”

He seethed for another heartbeat, then another. It was almost as though he wanted to be angry at you, at something. He snatched the badge and looked from you to it and back again.

“Didn’t know dirty sluts could get regular jobs.”

“Pay me.” It was blunt, and it shot out of your mouth before you could think better of it. “Till then, a girl’s gotta eat.”

His hypnotic eyes flashed, and he licked his lips, taking a step closer to you. Swallowing to wet the wicked dryness of your throat, you scooted back until you hit the wall, clutching your bag between you and him. You weren’t sure you meant what you said, but it was too late to take it back.

He looked at you like he wanted to eat you, and your body rose to the very idea of his mouth between your thighs. And then you thought how much better your shift would be if he fucked you first. A sloppy, rough ride to get you through the day.

“Wha-” Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to look at his face and not lower to see if his dick was hard in those navy blue slacks. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Some bullshit writer thing.” He leaned into your personal space and licked up the salty bead of perspiration at your temple. “But now I’m thinking about stuffing your filthy cunt full of my dick.”

Your agreement with the notion must have played across your face because he shoved your badge in your mouth, turned you around, and pushed your cheek against the cold slab wall. His deft hands wasted no time in sending your black dress pants to pool around your ankles and tugging aside your panties.

No warning, no checking to see if you were ready. He did exactly as he said he would; he stuffed his hard length into you, stretching and tearing, making you bite down on the plastic card.

Your eyes stung, tears smudging mascara and eyeliner into a globby blur. You scratched at the wall and squirmed through the pain, but Adam didn’t miss the way your hips moved, the way your ass wiggled against his groin. It didn’t matter why or where; you would always be ready for him to fuck you. Even if it hurt.

“Nasty, eager, goddamn slut.”

It was fast, frenetic. He pounded you so hard your eyes crossed. The full scope of your relationship coalesced in this moment. He fucked you blazingly quick, only worried about himself, and you flailed like a rag doll, a whore toy for his amusement.

You whimpered, unable to stop the noise even though you knew it wasn’t welcome. You carved little white divots into your badge with the death grip you had on it. Adam growled behind his own gnashing teeth, pulled you down onto his dick good and deep, and spilled into your waiting cavern. In a matter of two minutes, he finished with you and left.

It had been some time since it was that fast. Your head swam, caught in the murky middle of euphoria that only you, only your body could get him to do that and the ache and pulse he always left you with, the edge you seldom got to drop over.

It was the worst, and best, sort of torment, a masochism that got you through day after day.

***

“What’s wrong?! Are you dead?!”

You shoved your earbuds in and answered the phone in a panic because nobody made phone calls these days, especially the person on the line.

“Not dead. Where are you?”

You sighed, relieved that Adam wasn’t injured but unsure if he had lost his mind. Phone calls were against the rules.

“Working. You still haven’t paid me.”

His laugh soothed your nerves a bit; and like always, you waited for him to tell you what he wanted.

“Are you fucking anybody else?”

The question surprised you. This entire conversation surprised you. None of this was normal behavior for Adam, who spent all this time telling you he only wanted your mouth, your pussy. You weren’t sure what this was, but you knew to your bones it had to be part of his game.

“Nope. Should I be?”

He released a heavy sigh, the sort where you’ve finally sat down after a long day. You pictured it; him stretched out and relaxed. You only ever saw him relax the brief bits of time it took him to put his clothes back on.

“Can’t say no, can I? Probably shouldn’t be fucking around with me, cheating all over the place.”

“I’m not the cheater.” You half hoped he could hear the sneer, his comment souring your gut. “You are. I’m just a single gal with terrible judgment who likes to get fucked.”

“Yeah, you do.” He chuckled again, abandoning the self-loathing for something else. “Do you touch yourself when you’re not with me, bucket?”

You chewed your lip until it hurt. Even the mention of that name, the dirty things he called you, set your insides to warming, skin to flushing.

“Ah... no.” You winced because this wasn’t the sort of conversation you imagined having with anybody. Your masturbatory habits weren’t exactly noteworthy. “No, I don’t.”

“Why?”

“It.. uh... it makes sex better.”

“You don’t always cum when I’m fucking you, though. What do you do then?”

You sighed in defeat because you would do whatever he wanted, tell him whatever he wanted.

“Wait. I just wait.”

“Why?”

“Fucking hell.” You rubbed at your flaming cheeks and forehead. “Because it hurts, alright? You happy? Why are we talking about this?”

“Don't pretend to be shy. I’ve fucked you all over the city. Tell me what hurts.”

You could hear it now, a quiet rustling, a shift of his body, the slight change of his breath. He was stroking himself; you were sure of it. The very idea emboldened you.

“Fine.” You huffed, exasperated, and tried to settle, pressing your back against the wall. “It's this ache that never gets better. Everything stays swollen, and there’s this throb that’s always there. Once I cum, that goes away, and I have to start all over.”

“So, you don’t like to cum?”

You pondered the question, tapping your fingers restlessly. The answer was simple, but you didn’t want to say it out loud.

“No, I do. If it's been weeks of that deprivation, the orgasms are pretty amazing, but the in between is sometimes better. It keeps the memories fresh when I’m alone.”

Which was always.

“Does it hurt right now? Are your tits sore? Pussy wet and aching from being empty?”

The stutter to his voice confirmed it; he definitely had his dick in his hand. You shifted on your stool, spreading your legs apart far enough to push your pussy down against it. If you arched your back a little, your shirt grazed your skin in such a teasing way.

“You’re thinking about my tits now?”

He grunted, cursed under his breath.

“Think about you all the time. Your mouth and how you drank my piss that night.” He groaned and shifted again. You could  _ hear _ him fucking his fist now. “How you’ll fuck me anywhere I want. Your cunt and how tight it gets when you do cum. Feel like I could fuck you every day, and it wouldn’t be enough.”

Struck dumb, you blinked hard at your monitor, unable to tell if this was honesty or manipulation. Players always played the game.

“Adam...”

“Hnngfuck. You don’t say my name enough.”

“You don’t say my name at all!” The heavy moment lifted, and you laughed because there was a part of you that doubted he even knew your name. “You call me bucket.”

“Guh!” Short, choppy gasps wafted through the phone, conjuring all manner of salacious imagery and staining your panties. “Came in you three times that day. You were so fucking pretty on your knees for me.”

“You did.” You nodded at nothing, eyes not even focusing anymore. You didn’t think he remembered the times he spent with you, let alone the first time he called you by a pet name. “Twice in my mouth and once in my pussy.” 

You debated the next thing you wanted to say, not sure if it was even worth saying, but you jumped off the bridge. Terrible judgment. 

“I even bought a shirt that says bucket.”

This was bad. Catching feelings for Adam would be so easy and yet monumentally stupid. Luckily, reality stepped through the door and headed for your window.

“Customer. Gotta go, k Adam? Bye.”

Ripping out the ear buds, you shoved them, your phone, and everything that just happened away.

***

AS: Remember where I live?  
Y: Y  
AS: Stop ducking me  
AS: 6pm  
AS: Wear the shirt

You stalled at the door, unable to bring yourself to knock. This was risky, dangerous, and you knew you should turn right around and go home. Bringing your side piece into the home you shared with your partner was an all-around asshole move.

Yet, here you were.

He wasn’t wrong; you had been ducking him. That call was too close, filled with too much potential. So, you let it sit, went on dates and outings with your friends, spent a lot of time purposefully misplacing your phone. None of it was enough, not nearly enough to make you stop thinking about Adam. Or the way he fucked you.

But if you did this, you weren’t sure you’d recover.

Decision made, you spun on your heel, shaking your head no. Can’t do it. Won’t. He must have opened the door right at that moment because his big hand caught you around the wrist and tugged you to a stop.

“Hey, where the fuck are you going?”

You dared a look over your shoulder and found him standing in the doorway in a dark button up with the sleeves cuffed at his elbows, tattered blue jeans, and bare feet. Looking like the damn devil himself.

He didn’t see it the first time; so, you shook your head for his benefit, but you couldn’t say out loud that you were leaving.

He took that silence as invitation and pulled you towards the door, as though he didn’t have the magnetic pull of the sun himself. Back at the threshold, he hooked a finger under your chin, tipped your head back, and swept a feather-soft kiss across your mouth.

“Miss me?”

Your brain short-circuited, and you stared at him, unable to formulate any kind of response.

He’d never kissed you before.

One taste wasn’t enough for him, though, because he snatched up your face into both hands and laid a kiss on you that singed you to the very tips of your eyelashes. Those pillowy lips you’d only ever seen in a hard line moved against yours in the best way, and the satisfied sound he made blew through your resolve to leave.

He seemed to know the very second your tension somewhat eased. He hunched down, slid your arms around his neck, and lifted you onto your toes so he could walk you into the apartment. Slamming the door behind you, Adam leaned you into it for support and slid his knee between yours, pinning you right there.

You still weren’t certain what to do, and it kept your face tight, anxious. Something rumbled against your chest, tickling your nipples as he broke the kiss. Your brow knit, and you tried to focus on his face. Long fingers slid around your throat loosely, the thumb at your chin keeping your head tilted.

“Relax. Let me taste.”

He nipped at your jaw, tripping a shudder that rushed down your spine. The next pass he made at your mouth came with the tease of his tongue along the seam of your lips. Your chest seized; you clutched at his shirt and squirmed in his hold. And then, his tongue curled along yours, cinnamon sugar and Sriracha spice. You thought you might die; you certainly didn’t mean to whine the way you did, but it escaped before you could catch it.

“You’ve swallowed so much of my cum, I expected you to taste like me.” His raspy words smeared a trail down your throat as his hands slid up to find skin under the hem of your shirt. “The rest of you taste this good?”

Your instincts screamed that this all was taking too long. You never had this much time, and he was wasting it with kisses and pretty words he didn’t mean.

“You.. ah..” You pushed at his shoulders to get him to look at you. “You don’t have to say those things. We both know I’m a sure thing. So, maybe let’s skip that part, yeah?”

“You got somewhere to be?”

“No, but Ha--”

“Good.” He licked at the shell of your ear and curled his fingers into your ribs. “Cause I’m in the mood to wreck you.”

Adam slanted his mouth over yours once more, stealing any further objection. His kisses were hungry but unhurried, and he explored your mouth as though he had all the time in the world. He unbuttoned your jeans and slid his hands down beneath the waistband, cupping and kneading your ass, teasing at the edges of your panties.

Those fingers that mainly dug bruises into your hips dipped between your legs, sliding along the sticky fabric. He pressed open-mouthed kisses all along your jawline and neck, biting sexily beneath your earlobe. Your hips rocked against his caress of their own accord, your body starving for this kind of touch from this particular man. Dubious, you chewed the inside of your cheek to keep your erratic tongue in check. It was likely that if you got too loud, all of this would end.

“Stop doing that.” He tugged at your lower lip, watching the corner of your mouth quiver. “Wanna hear you.”

Caught in his confusing web, you glued your eyes to the ceiling. If you looked at him, those feelings you tried so hard to skirt would come barreling back.

“Adam... what is this?”

Finding his way into your panties, he slid his long fingers between your slippery labia and against your oft-neglected clit on a pleased purr. You choked on your own spit, fisted your hands into his shirt, and pushed at his shoulders on reflex.

“Something new.”

It was subtle, intimate, the way he stroked your pussy, and it pushed you right up to that cliff in no time flat. Shaking inside your skin, you dropped your head against his shoulder. For weeks now, you rode that line, the sharp edge of denial; and in only a few passes of Adam’s thick fingers, your body was ready to jump off.

“M’gonna.. shit.. Ad-am!”

A loud, pained groan ripped from your throat when he pulled his fingers away, dangling you right there on the verge of bliss. This was more in line with the man you knew. This cocky asshole who could play you like a violin.

“Noooo, not yet.” Hasty now, he pulled off your clothes, tossing hoodie, shoes, and jeans over his shoulder. Catching sight of your white tank with ‘bucket’ painted over your breasts in script, he paused, gaping. “That’s the best fucking thing ever.”

His hands were suddenly everywhere. Shoving your arms away, turning your face to his for voracious kisses, groping at your aching breasts underneath the shirt. He palmed and rubbed and tugged at your flushing tits, all while whispering in your ear how he wanted you to wear that shirt all the time, wanted to paint it with his cum.

When he pinched and rolled your nipples, a low tide of pleasure wracked your body, pitching you into a tremor. Your cunt contracted and twinged, bending you towards its tormentor on a strangled moan. You couldn’t help it; your body could only handle so much. Adam’s eyes flashed, dark and glittery. He said he always knew when you came, and it seemed he was right.

“Think we can do better than that, bucket.”

And then he was on his knees, pressing you into the wall by one hand at your stomach and tearing your panties out of the way with the other. His lips connected with your cunt on a loud moan, and your brain stopped working. Your knees buckled, unable to keep you steady as he lathed your sex and thighs with messy, slurping kisses.

“Adam,” the desperation in your voice was terrible. “Jesusfuckinghell.”

Your pitiful, pleading noises only made him double down. His kisses came rougher, harder, and he sucked your clit until you shouted. Tears pricked at your eyes, but all you could do was beg.  _ Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop. _

But of course, he stopped.

Flush against you, he trapped your trembling mouth to share your taste, grunting as you tangled tingling fingers into his hair to keep from buzzing right out of your body.

“Want you to crawl to my bed, bucket. Put that pretty cunt up so I can see.”

The world stopped. You blinked rapidly, feeling like someone had doused you with ice cold water. Pushing him away, you shook your head and tried to disentangle your limbs from his.

“Y-you want me to crawl,” your face dropped into a scowl, anger diffusing through your already heated chest and neck, “To  **Hannah’s** bed?! Fuck you, Adam. No. That’s too much.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he tugged you back into place beneath him and nudged your nose with his. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over your mouth until your gaze softened from fury to confusion.

“My bed.” His voice was soft, his eyes searching. “No more Hannah. Or Jessa. Or anybody.”

You blew out a long, uncertain breath, letting it lead right into the question. “... when?”

“The night you hung up on me. Couple hours after that.” He drew lazy circles on your hip with his fingertips. “Found out I got a part I really wanted after I talked to you, and you were the only person I wanted to celebrate with. Been trying to pin you down for weeks so I could tell you.”

Something new, he said. You looked up at him with wide, shining eyes, trying to decide if he was telling the truth.

“I want you around. When I wake up at three a.m. because I want to fuck you so bad. I wanna take you to new restaurants so we can cheapen up their bathrooms. Wanna call you bucket in public so people think I’m crazy. Think I owe you about a thousand orgasms, and I wanna give them to you.”

Twisting out of his hold, you shook your head. Unstable, fuzzy on your intention, you leaned against the couch while you slid your jeans and shoes back on. You looked everywhere but directly at Adam and dodged his hand when he reached for you.

“Can’t do this right now.”

With a crash of the door behind you, you ran out of the building with no particular direction other than away from him.

***

“Fuck, that’s it.”

You tangled your fingers in soft, raven locks and scratched at Adam’s scalp. That was your handle to guide him up and down, side to side. He hummed into your slick pussy, lapping and sucking so loud someone had to have heard.

On his knees at the little sink, he buried his face far between your thighs, nudging your clit with his nose and jostling it ever so slightly with each vulgar kiss, each smacking pop against your labia. Brushing his mouth and cheeks through the syrup shining on your skin, he murmured praises about how amazing you were, how good you tasted, what a filthy thing you were to spread your legs for him in this grimy bathroom. His words tumbled away with the spear of his tongue, replaced by your wanton whimpers. Gripping your legs to keep them apart, he tongue fucked you until the things coming out of your mouth made little sense.

Smacking his hands away, you tugged on his hair to draw Adam up to stand. He cupped your face and smothered you with a tart kiss. It was his turn to whimper as your fingers worked the belt and buttons of his pants, wiggling them open and down his hips.

“You’re sure?”

"Mhm. Debt paid." 

You bit at his swollen lips and nodded, untucking his heavy, hard dick and scooting to the edge of the sink. For weeks now, you treated Adam the way he had treated you for so long. You called him when you wanted to cum, and you put him on his knees wherever you were.

His lips, his tongue, his fingers — all worked every time you called, but you didn’t let him fuck you. And you didn’t return the favor.

All you could think about right this moment was getting his dick inside of you. You pinched a hot drop of want from his inflamed cock head and relished the needy groan that accompanied it. He hesitated, as though he didn’t want to ruin it; but finally, he lined himself up and struck, rocking his hips and shoving, shoving, shoving until he bottomed out.

He whined into your neck, gripping your hips in that possessive way you didn’t realize you wanted so badly. You clung to his shoulders, thighs cinched around his wide body. He filled and stretched you so goddamn good, but it was the things coming out of his mouth that sent you careening.

“Shit, that’s good. Missed you so fucking much. Can’t believe it's been this long since I’ve been in your cunt.”

Like so many times before, Adam held you in place, his broad hands anchoring you to the sink ledge so he could pound into you with abandon. The slide of his dick was mind-numbing, and you bit into his shirt to keep from shouting.

The tingle first started in your toes. It slithered up your calves and jerked your knees together at Adam’s sides. It had been such a long time since you’d had him inside you that your pussy squeezed tight, earning a growled string of curses at your ear. Your clit was so engorged and aching that his light touch sent your yelp echoing in the little room. Redirecting his hand, you bit down on his thumb and watched his gaze change.

In a second, he was old Adam, punishing and wickedly wild. He forced his thumb further into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue, making the saliva pool around it. Your eager moan was louder than you intended, but it only made him fuck you harder, faster.

He liked it when you were quiet, but he liked it more when you were loud. Liked it even better when you were loud in public.

“Greedy girl, aren’t you? Always ready for me to fuck you stupid.”

You tipped your pelvis into that perfectly tantalizing angle, where the drag of his cock head rubbed against those spots that made you see stars again and again, and you ignited. Everything tensed, toes curling, fingers quivering. Your cunt clenched around him so hard, his thrusts turned violent, forcing you to accept him deeper and deeper.

You wailed his name into his shoulder, unraveling completely from your white hot center outwards.

With his cock seated far inside your ravaged pussy, Adam latched back onto your clit, rubbing the hard nub in quick circles to draw out your orgasm. You shrieked and batted at his hand again, but he caught your arm, drew it behind your back painfully, and bit into your neck.

“If you want my cum, bucket, you’re gonna have to milk me for it.”

His hips kept moving against yours, the slightest of thrusts, but it was his fingers, his evil fingers that ruined you. They never stopped moving at your clit, even when you begged him for a breath. They slid down around your weeping entrance, where his cock stretched you, and back up, bringing a fresh coat of slip to help his fingers fly.

Your eyes slammed shut; your face scrunched up tight and mute. He dropped his mouth to the crook of your neck, cinched your arm more firmly behind your back, and growled as your cunt convulsed for him a second time. You couldn’t even shout; all you could do was keen and quake.

It was enough to push Adam over. He jerked against you, grinding and losing himself to the obscene pull of your spasming pussy. He moaned your name into your pulse and clung to you frantically. His voice hitched, and he poured into you so hard you heard him sniffle, overcome with the blinding pleasure of it.

When your breathing returned to normal, and the aftershocks subsided, he helped you back into your clothes since your legs were still wobbly. He even tied your shoes.

“Don’t worry.” He bit your cheek the way he used to, the way that was unique to the two of you. “We’ll tell the manager you had a seizure or something.”

Chuckling, you snuck your hand into his; and this time, you left the bathroom together.


End file.
